Wilhelmina, a Love Story
by LJlashlarue
Summary: The why and how of the pipe, and some other things. A bit sentimental, femmeslash but not at all explicit.


Author: Lash_Larue

Title: "Wilhelmina, a Love Story"

Pairing: Wilhelmina/Minerva

Rating: PG13

Summary: Where the pipe came from, and other beginnings

Warnings: Bit sappy, I guess

Word Count:4450

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: I made it all up without much regard to canon, and arranged ages and all other things to suit my fancy. I have no particular idea where this came from, but it wouldn't leave me alone, so now you have to suffer too. L

"Wilhelmina, a Love Story"

Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank was _different_. She had learned this on her 4th birthday when she overheard her grandmother talking to her parents while they thought she was playing outside. For some reason Wilhelmina was easy to lose track of.

"Wilhelmina is different," grandmother had said. "Look at those hands, like a blacksmith's, and the way she lumbers around."

"She's a fine girl," her father had defended her, "never a moment's trouble and always eager to help."

"No doubt that's true," grandmother admitted, "I did not mean that she wasn't a well-behaved child, merely that she is – different."

Wilhelmina's mother had had nothing to say, she was busy with the new baby, Cecily.

Wilhelmina went out to tend the hens, and she stared at her hands as she shifted the broody ones gently and gathered the eggs. The hens never protested when Wilhelmina collected the eggs, though they raised the roof if either of her parents did it. They seemed like perfectly good hands to her, useful.

She enjoyed life on the farm for the most part; it was peaceful, and the animals took to her and she to them. Her father seemed to enjoy being with her, and she supposed it was only natural that her mother be absorbed with her new sister as she was such a tiny thing, fragile really, and beautiful. Not strong like Wilhelmina, she needed careful tending, like a new lamb.

Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank was also an _unlovely_ child. She found this out on her 6th birthday when she overheard her grandmother talking to her parents while they thought she was playing outside.

"It's hard to believe they are sisters," grandmother had said as she fussed over Cecily. "Cecily is so beautiful, and Wilhelmina, while she is a very good girl, is simply unlovely, with her large hands and that square jaw. Not at all like Cecily's delicate features."

"Wilhelmina is a fine girl," her father said staunchly, "a dab hand with the stock, too. Young as she is she saved more than one lamb this spring."

"Of course she is, I didn't mean that she wasn't useful, just – unlovely."

Wilhelmina's mother had nothing to say, she was busy wiping a bit of spitup off of Cecily's dress.

Wilhelmina went out to the pasture to watch the lambs play.

"Grand little things, aren't they Willa?" her father said as he came and stood beside her, placing his large, rough hand gently on her shoulder.

"They're really lovely Da'" Willa agreed, and they stood in companionable silence for a time, the different unlovely child and her father who loved her, watching their lambs gambol about.

Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank was also _a witch_. She found this out at ten years of age one Christmas when the trifle unaccountably spilled all over her grandmother. Cecily went into hysterics because some of it had splattered onto her new dress, and while her mother and grandmother were fussing over the distressed but nonetheless lovely child she went out and tossed scraps to the pigs and sat by the pen enjoying the smiles on their faces as they ate.

"Nothing happier than a pig with his Christmas dinner, eh, Willa?" greeted her father as he sat down beside her. She smiled and nodded her agreement, and her father put his strong arm around her shoulders. "It's time you were told about what you _did_ inherit from yer Mum, lass," and he explained how her mother was a witch, whereas he was what was called a muggle. He also told her about the special school that she would be going to in a year or two, and how she should not be afraid of her magic, but must try and control it.

"Yes, Da'," she promised him, and she took his hand that was so like her own, and they sat in companionable silence for a time, watching the smiling pigs.

Now that it was established that Wilhelmina was indeed a witch, her mother spent more time with her. She knew her duty to educate her magical offspring in the things she would need to know before starting at Hogwarts. So in the evening after she had done her chores, Wilhelmina would sit at the kitchen table and work on the lessons her mother set for her. Cecily sat in as well, so as to get an early start since she was sure to discover her magic soon enough. Wilhelmina had, and so Cecily surely would. She resembled her mother so much, surely her magic would manifest soon. But since it had not, her mother overlooked Cecily's inattention.

Due to the awkward falling of her birthday, Wilhelmina did not get her Hogwarts letter until she was 12, and by then things had changed for them all. Her father's strong arms had withered, his hands were gnarled and twisted, and Wilhelmina had to stay home and manage the farm. Cecily was too delicate for such work, and her mother was busy caring for her husband and Cecily. Her mother's magic helped some, but she was never really much of a witch to start with, and since Cecily had been born was even further out of practice.

But she knew her duty to her magical offspring, and arranged for lessons to arrive for Wilhelmina by owl post, and got her the proper books and equipment and in the evenings after her chores were done Wilhelmina would sit at the kitchen table and work on her lessons with the same calm competence with which she cared for the animals and the garden.

On fair days she would help her father to his chair on the porch, and she would sit with him while he smoked his pipe and tell him how the animals were doing, how many lambs had been born or lost, how much milk the cows were producing, how many eggs from the hens. It was her favorite part of the day, and really the only joy left to her father at all.

After about a year her father could no longer fill his pipe himself, and so Wilhelmina learned the subtle art of packing the tobacco in the bowl just right, so that it would burn evenly right to the bottom, how to dislodge the dottle that remained after, how to dry it out properly so it wouldn't sour. And when it broke she learned how to prepare the reeds she gathered from the riverbank, and the cobs that were left from feeding the chickens, and she made her father a brand new pipe. He was lavish in his praise, and Wilhelmina was very happy with her animals and her garden and her father with his pipe.

Slowly her father's health faded as the disease burned its way through him, and her mother grew haggard, and Cecily grew impatient that her magic had not manifested, and not long after that Wilhelmina learned what a _squib_ was, and she felt sorry for her beautiful sister because she loved her very much.

Cecily was much less disappointed than her mother, as the lessons she had sat through with Wilhelmina had been tiresome and difficult, and now she no longer had to do them. Besides, her mother had bought her some lovely new dresses by way of compensation.

Out of a sense of fairness, Wilhelmina received new Wellingtons and some sturdy shirts and trousers. She was quite happy with them, they were useful clothes, and the boots kept her feet dry. Sometimes after her father had gone to bed Wilhelmina would brush Cecily's hair for her before they went to bed. She loved Cecily's hair, it was long and thick, and a glossy chestnut color like her mother's. Wilhelmina's hair was a nondescript sandy brown, and cropped quite short so as not to be so much trouble. Both girls enjoyed those quiet evenings together, and Cecily really did love her different and unlovely sister who was so very useful.

In time her father was too shaky and weak to properly manage the delicate chore of breaking in the new pipe Wilhelmina had made for him, and so he explained the process to her, and by the third pipe she had mastered the fine craft of properly packing the first fill, and how to get it to burn right to the bottom and so start building the cake that would protect the delicate cob from the burning tobacco. Her father's eyes lit with pleasure when she held it for him, and he remarked on the wonderful smoothness of the draw, and the coolness of the smoke, and Wilhelmina held it for him as they sat together in the fading daylight with the smoke wreathing round them both.

" 'Tis a grand pipe, Willa my lass," her father said quietly, "a truly grand pipe indeed."

It was not long after that that the healer emerged from her father's bedroom with a grave look on his face.

"It can't be long now," he told Wilhelmina's mother, "it's only his great strength that's kept him going this long. I'm sorry."

Her mother sat at the kitchen table and cried, and Cecily sat and cried with her.

Wilhelmina went out and did her chores, and then she gathered her materials and set about making a new pipe, and she sat alone on the porch in the fading light and carefully filled the bowl and started building up the cake while the smoke wreathed round her head.

It was a grand pipe.

Then came the morning when her father did not wake, and Wilhelmina helped her mother prepare him for burial, and her strong hands were sure as she cleaned the shriveled husk of the man who had thought her a very fine lass indeed.

Uncomfortable in the unaccustomed dress, Wilhelmina supported her mother and her delicate sister throughout the service, and afterwards she took them home and stayed by them until they slept. Then she gathered her materials and made a new pipe, and sat on the porch alone in the dark and carefully filled the bowl as she remembered her father and the things he had taught her, and how he had loved her, different and unlovely as she was.

Wilhelmina kept up with her studies and the farm both until the day her mother called her into the kitchen and told her that the farm had been sold.

"It's just too much for us Wilhelmina," she explained. "Cecily and I will go and live with mother, and you'll get to go to Hogwarts now, won't that be grand?"

She didn't think it was too much, she'd been doing just fine for four years, but she could see that being here hurt her mother now, and so she agreed that perhaps Hogwarts would be grand. Her mother smiled at her and patted her strong hands for a moment before plodding off to bed.

Wilhelmina gathered her materials and began a new pipe. She always did this now when something altered her life, whether the loss of a lamb, or the loss of her father, or the loss of her farm. The familiar process of crafting and breaking in a new pipe soothed her, and she grew to appreciate the subtle beauty of the pipes as they darkened with age and use.

Perhaps Hogwarts would be grand at that.

Wilhelmina arrived early to school; she was to take several examinations to gauge the progress she had made in her lessons at home. She was pleased to learn that she would be in the fifth year, one of the older students of the year, but not conspicuously so. The start of term feast found her seated at the Hufflepuff table, and her house mates welcomed her with polite curiosity.

Taciturn by nature, Wilhelmina found the attention tiring, but she responded politely to the questions and accepted the sympathy for the loss of her father.

She stayed briefly in the common room after dinner, and then retired to her bed. She was asleep before her roommates came in.

She found her classes interesting enough, especially Herbology and Care of Magical creatures, and she made quite an impression on both her classmates and her teacher when an injured Krup submitted quietly to her attentions after snapping viciously at everyone else.

It was well that she was in Hufflepuff, for she was soon quite respected there for her steady work habits and her gift with creatures, and it was several weeks before she noticed the stares and the whispers and the giggles of some of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw girls. Wilhelmina heard some reference to 'clodhoppers' and looked down at her boots, comparing them to the elegant footwear on some of the snickering young women. Her boots looked perfectly fine to her, much more suited to walking across the grounds than the delicate shoes that reminded her of the ones that Cecily loved so much.

It was a few more weeks before she heard the words 'dyke', and 'lesbian' whispered behind her back. She knew what lesbian meant, but she didn't see how she compared to an earthen dam, no matter that she was different and unlovely. And so in her typical forthright manner she turned to one of the snickerers and asked what she meant by that.

As luck would have it, she had picked a seventh year Slytherin from a prominent family to ask, and the answer she received left no doubt at all what they had meant. She was as much puzzled as embarrassed, for she had never felt any romantic or sexual interest in anyone, male or female. In fact she had no really close friends at all, she applied herself to her studies, occasionally helped a classmate who asked for it, and really never thought about 'love' at all, not in that way.

Perhaps that was simply part of being different. She'd seen plenty of sex in her day, lambs and piglets had to come from somewhere, and it had seemed more desperate to her than anything else. But she did begin to feel a bit more uncomfortable around the other students outside of class after that, and took to wandering the grounds alone whenever she had the chance.

It was on one of these solitary wanderings that she found her special place. It was inside the forbidden forest, but Wilhelmina had no fear of anything that might be lurking there. It was a lovely little clearing with a brook, and a nice flat stone that she could sit on in the sunlight, and even on cold days it was nice there. She would regularly go there to study and smoke her pipe, and gradually the creatures grew accustomed to her presence and trusted her. One very special day a unicorn foal came right up to her while its mother watched nervously, and she held very still while the velvet muzzle snuffled her cheek. At a snort from her mother, the little filly gave her a farewell whiffle and then raced away.

"Extraordinary…" she heard from behind her in reverent tones.

Sighing inwardly, Wilhelmina looked over her shoulder to see who had spoken.

She knew the girl, at least her name, Minerva McGonagall she was, and she was in her Care of Magical Creatures class. She reminded Wilhelmina a bit of her sister, slender and elegant and graceful, but there was nothing delicate or fragile about Minerva. She was strong, and Wilhelmina was certain that she would be useful, even on a farm.

"Please forgive me for disturbing you," she asked Wilhelmina, "I was out for a walk and I smelled pipe tobacco, and I just had to find where it came from. I used to go to the pub with my father, and sit with him while he and his friends smoked their pipes. It smelled like home to me. Oh! What a lovely pipe, my father had one like that, wherever did you get it?"

"I made it," Wilhelmina answered simply.

"How clever of you! May I sit with you a moment? My feet are rather tired."

Wilhelmina moved over to make room, her innate manners overcoming her small irritation at being disturbed.

"How did you get the unicorn to come over to you?" Minerva asked.

"Can't get them to, you have to let them," Wilhelmina told her. Minerva considered that for a time.

"I see, well, that does make sense. Oh, forgive me, I'm Minerva McGonagall, we have Care of Magical Creatures together."

"I remember, I'm Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank."

"Well of course I know who _you_ are, you're top of the class by a mile! I'm very pleased to meet you, Wilhelmina," Minerva said enthusiastically, and she extended her hand. Wilhelmina took it without thinking, and then she tensed a bit, waiting for the comments on how rough her hand was. But Minerva merely shook it firmly and smiled so sincerely that Wilhelmina just had to return it. Minerva's hand was warm and firm in hers, a useful hand, if not very large.

"Tell me, how did you come by such a way with creatures? I've never seen anything like it."

"Grew up on a farm," she answered shortly.

"And is that where you learned to make pipes as well?"

"Yes, my Da' taught me. After he fell ill and couldn't do it himself," she explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I hope he's better now."

"Dead," Wilhelmina said shortly.

"Forgive me please, Wilhelmina, I – I didn't know."

"No reason you should have, it's all right."

"I'm very sorry, it must hurt a great deal," Minerva said, and she laid her hand on Wilhelmina's shoulder.

No one had done that since her dad, and Wilhelmina was absolutely mortified when the tears started to flow, and she was very grateful for the company of Minerva McGonagall, who knew when words were of no use and simply sat with her arm lightly draped across Wilhelmina's shoulders until she was done.

"Pipe's gone out," Wilhelmina said when the tears had stopped.

"That happens to father all the time, sometimes he nearly wears out his wand keeping it lit."

"It's all in how you pack the tobacco, this bowl's nearly done anyway. Shall I show you how it's done? You can show your Da' when you go home."

"By all means!"

Minerva watched with interest as Wilhelmina filled her pipe, letting Minerva feel the tobacco when she was done.

"It needs just a bit of spring to it, looser than that it burns too hot and fast, tighter and it won't stay lit."

"I see," Minerva said as she watched her light the pipe. "May I try it? Father would never let me, and I always wondered what it would be like." Wilhelmina passed her the pipe without a word, and Minerva drew on it delicately. She managed to hand it back before she doubled over coughing.

"You don't want to breathe it in, it takes getting used to," Wilhelmina explained.

"So I see," Minerva agreed as she wiped her eyes, "I am afraid that I shall have to continue to enjoy the aroma of someone else's pipe. This is a lovely spot, do you come here often?"

"When I want to get away."

"Oh, I see, please forgive me for intruding, and thank you for the lesson. I'm sure father will be impressed. I'll leave you in peace now," Minerva said as she stood to leave. She had taken only a few steps when Wilhelmina called after her.

"You're no bother, come again if you like." Minerva turned and smiled at her, waved, and then left the clearing.

"She's nice," Wilhelmina said to the listening creatures.

After that day, the different and unlovely farm girl and the beautiful and elegant Scots lass began to study together. Wilhelmina helped Minerva with Herbology and Magical Creatures, and Minerva helped Wilhelmina with Transfiguration and Potions, and they each sustained the other through the blinding boredom that was History of Magic. They had these classes in common, if only Creatures at the same time.

Wilhelmina began hoping that Minerva would join her in her clearing, rather than resenting the intrusion on her solitude, but of course she said nothing about it. Minerva didn't like to bother her new friend, but now and again she would catch the scent of pipe tobacco and her feet would lead her into the forest, and Wilhelmina would always slide over to make room for her.

Sometimes they would talk of classes, sometimes they would talk of their families, and sometimes they would simply sit and watch the animals together in silence while the smoke wreathed around them.

Near the end of the year Minerva followed her feet to the clearing and found Wilhelmina sitting far to one side of the flat rock. She didn't need to move over at all for Minerva to sit beside her. They spoke not a word that day, and when Wilhelmina returned to her room she gathered her materials and made a new pipe.

The summer could not pass soon enough for Wilhelmina, she did not care for the town that her mother lived in with her sister and her grandmother. It was too busy, too loud, and too filled with useless people. And her grandmother kept trying to get her to wear fancy dresses and go to parties. It was Cecily who came to her rescue.

"She doesn't want to go to the party," she said in exasperation, "can't you see that? Leave her be, would you? She's earned the right to do what she wants. Leave her be."

Wilhelmina spent a long time brushing her sister's hair that night, Cecily had beautiful hair.

_"Not as lovely as Minerva's,"_ she thought, _"but beautiful all the same."_

"Thank you, Cecily," Wilhelmina had told her sister that evening.

"You're welcome Wilhelmina," Cecily told her, "you know, there's nothing wrong with being different. I think you're fine just the way you are. You're my big sister and you've always taken care of me. It's about time someone stood up for you."

Cecily had noticed her, Wilhelmina thought. It was a good feeling, and if Cecily noticed Wilhelmina's tears in the mirror, she knew her sister well enough not to mention it.

Someone else seemed to have decided that it was time to stand up for Wilhelmina, and on the train back to Hogwarts a seventh year Slytherin boy who had called out "Here comes the bulldagger!" when she boarded the train found himself on the wrong end of a very angry Gryffindor prefect and the proud possessor of a week's detention and credit for losing his house twenty points before he'd set foot on the school grounds.

After that the taunts dropped off sharply. Besides, no one could say that they had ever seen Ms. Grubbly-Plank show any interest in anything beyond her schoolwork at all, never mind any of the other girls.

Minerva didn't have Care of Magical Creatures that year, and they had no classes together, but they continued to study together the classes that they had in common, and gradually a few other serious students joined them, and before she realized it Wilhelmina had some friends. It came upon her all at once one day in the library when the librarian had severely shushed the lot of them for laughing out loud.

They had gathered up their books and left, and arranged to all get together after dinner in the courtyard for some revision before bedtime.

Wilhelmina skipped dinner, and spent the time in her room, making a new pipe, and whistling happily to herself.

It got so that she could sense when Minerva was coming to the clearing, she just knew, like she knew what a sick kneazle needed just by looking at it. It was part of her, and when after sitting together in silence for a time Minerva reached over and took her hand it was not a surprise at all. They spoke not a word, and when the light began to fade Minerva gave her hand a squeeze and left silently.

Wilhelmina made a new pipe.

Wilhelmina had elected to stay at Hogwarts over the summer after her sixth year, the groundskeeper had offered her a job helping out with the gardens and the animals, and it was the best summer she had had since her father had fallen ill.

The time passed quickly, and if she occasionally dreamed of a beautiful and elegant Scots lass it did not seem strange to her at all.

Seventh year was busy for both Wilhelmina and Minerva, what with preparing for N.E.W.T.'s and Minerva's duties as Head Girl, and Wilhelmina's with the animals and the gardens.

They still met with their study group and still had fun doing it, but it was edging into fall before they met each other in the clearing and had the time to sit together for a time.

"Merlin, Willa," Minerva sighed, "I'm knackered."

"My Da's the only one who ever called me that," she replied softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Minerva apologized hastily, "I didn't mean to-"

"It's all right if you do," Wilhelmina interrupted, "I think I'd like it, now you mention it."

Minerva smiled at her, and neither of them thought it strange that Willa took Min's hand, and they sat in companionable silence as the sun drifted lower in the sky, and the smoke wreathed around them.

There was snow on the ground before she returned to her clearing, and Willa carefully brushed it off of her rock before she sat down and filled her pipe, spreading the tail of her cloak over the vacant spot beside her to keep it clear. She twitched it aside when Minerva arrived, and then threw it around the beautiful and elegant Scots lass when she sat beside her, and they sat in companionable silence until Minerva took one of Willa's large hands in both of her small and firm and useful ones.

"Willa," Min said, softly and in an unusually uncertain voice, "I find that I have certain – feelings – for you. Quite strong feelings. I wonder if I dare to hope that you feel the same for me?"

In that instant Wilhelmina felt neither different nor unlovely, and she turned her face to Minerva and their lips met gently, just one brief time, and then Willa put her strong arm around Min's elegant shoulders, and gently pulled her close, and the sun was climbing in the sky before they returned to the castle.

Alone in her room while the others ate breakfast, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank gathered her materials and began making a new pipe, and she worked very carefully indeed, for she meant this one to last a lifetime.


End file.
